THE FAIREST FLOWER.

THE LAY OF THE CAPTIVE EARL.

_The Earl._--I know a floweret passing fair,
And for its loss I pain me;
Fain would I hence to seek its lair,
But for these bonds that chain me.
My woes are aught but light to me,
For when I roam'd unbound and free
That flower was ever near me.

Adown and round the castle's steep,
I let my glances wander;
But cannot from the dizzy keep,
Descry it, there or yonder.
Oh, he who'd bring it to my sight,
Or were he knave or were he knight,
Should be my friend for ever!

_The Rose._--I blossom bright thy lattice near,
And hear what thou hast spoken;
'Tis me--brave, ill-starr'd cavalier--
The Rose, thou wouldst betoken!
Thy spirit spurns the base, the low,
And 'tis the queen of flowers, I know,
That in thy bosom reigneth.

_The Earl._--All honour to thy purple cheer,
From swathes of verdure blowing;
And so art though to maidens dear,
As gold or jewels glowing.
Thy wreaths adorn the fairest face,
Yet art thou not the flower, whose grace
In solitude I cherish.

_The Lily._--A haughty place usurps the rose,
And haughtier still doth covet;
But where the lily meekly blows,
Some gentle eye will love it.
The heart that beats in faithful breast,
And spotless is as my white vest,
Must value me the highest.

_The Earl._--Spotless and true of heart am I,
And free from sinful failing,
Yet must I here a captive lie,
In loneliness bewailing.
I see an image fair in you
Of many maidens pure and true,
Yet know I something dearer.

_The Carnation._--That may thy warder's garden show
In me, the bright carnation,
Else would the old man tend me so
With loving adoration?
In perfect round my petals meet,
And lifelong are with scent replete,
And with a burning colour.

_The Earl._--None may the sweet carnation slight,
It is the gardener's pleasure,
Now he unfolds it to the light,
Now shields from it his treasure.
But no--the flower for which I pant,
No rare, no brilliant charms can vaunt,
'Tis ever meek and lowly.

_The Violet._--Conceal'd and bending I retreat,
Nor willingly had spoken,
Yet that same silence, since 'tis meet,
Shall now by me be broken.
If I be that which fills thy thought
Then must I grieve that I may not
Waft every perfume to thee.

_The Earl._--I love the violet,